New Form of Conversation
by feeisamarshmallow
Summary: How exactly did Weevil end up helping Veronica with her criminology project? Veronica and Weevil navigate their post-high school friendship, and the tricky forces that led to their current situations. Tag to 3x05. I started this ages ago, and always intended to finish it. However, I'm not sure when I'll ever add to it, but what I have so far stands alone well.
1. Chapter 1

**How exactly did Weevil end up helping Veronica with her criminology project? Veronica and Weevil navigate their post-high school friendship, and the tricky forces that led to their current situations. Tag to 3x05.**

 **Updated 10/02/19 on ao3**

VMVM

"What'cha working on, V?"

Veronica startles as Weevil sits down beside her in the cafeteria of Hearst College.

"My criminology presentation, although 'working on' is a pretty loose term."

She closes her textbook and places her papers on top to make room for Weevil. Glad for an excuse to stop trying to write her presentation, Veronica continues the conversation.

"You on your lunch break?"

Veronica is not exactly sure how to approach her and Weevil's post-high school relationship. At some point the need for mutual favours is going to run out and they'll have to decide whether they are friends or not. Weevil is, Veronica thinks, a friend, yet making small talk with him seems odd and off-kilter. Instead of answering Veronica's question, Weevil grunts affirmatively and picks up the piece of paper detailing the instructions for the presentation.

Weevil, after prison, is both harder and softer at the same time. Gone is the game of posturing—swaggering down the hallways and announcing his status with a bored and menacing glare. He looks softer too, he has gained some weight, and traded his leather jacket for the standard Hearst maintenance uniform. But soft is definitely not how Veronica would describe Weevil. If anything the look in his dark eyes is harder, unbreakable and inscrutable. He carries himself less with PCH king swagger and more with grim determination.

Their new form of conversation, one with questions meant to catch up, not to insinuate or implicate, somehow feels darker than their high school banter of sexual double-entendres. Instead of teenage fire and rage, they converse in a regular sort of manner, which on Weevil comes across as wary and tired.

"The socioeconomic conditions that lead preteens into a life of crime. Use at least three academic sources," Weevil reads in the same slightly tired conversational tone. Before she has a chance to comment Weevil continues, "Anyone from my neighbourhood would be ten times better a source than a book penned by some white old criminology professor." He looks at her inquisitively, but keeps his tone level and conversational.

Veronica opens her mouth to mention not all of her professors are old and white, before realizing his point still stands. "Yeah that's…This course is so lifeless," she starts, "It's the TAs project—it's kind of a dumb… I mean it's such a broad topic for only 10 minutes." Veronica suddenly feels hot with shame. Here she was, paying to take a course to study the very same circumstances that kept her the student and Weevil in the Hearst Maintenance uniform.

Weevil simply nods like he understands Veronica's babble about TAs and time constraints. Veronica blurts out, "It's not important," at the same time Weevil protests, "It's not dumb." Veronica fidgets with her pen between her thumb and forefinger.

"You don't have to be sorry, V," Weevil tells her, mild confusion written on his face. "It's true," he continues as he picks up his sandwich from his lunch, "It's not a fluke that you're here studying this stuff and I'm on parole."

The pen in Veronica's hand goes quiet as she turns her full attention to Weevil. Gone is the bored, disassociated tone, replaced with something akin to the attention he commanded as king of the PCHers. Except, instead of fake bravado and sneered innuendos, it's just Weevil speaking the truth. Eli, Veronica decides, speaking the truth. Not Weevil the gang-leader, not Weevil the ex-con, just Eli.

Eli stops speaking for a moment, but Veronica maintains eye contact.

"I mean, once you start it—stealing and stuff—it's hard to stop. You've got power you know. And if you're skilled at it, man," he shakes his head a little, "it's addictive."

Weevil abruptly breaks eye contact, as if he has just woken up to find himself having a heart to heart with Veronica in the glare of the harsh fluorescent lights in the Hearst cafeteria. Veronica watches as the mask falls back over his face.

In an attempt to lighten the conversation, and steer it back into a familiar realm, Veronica jokes, "You want to help with my project?" She gives him an overacted pleading face followed by a smirk. "You could be my audio-visual aide."

Something about Veronica's bearing or her phrasing jolts them back into junior year. Veronica has her chopped hair once again, and Weevil is roaring around on his bike with his boys behind him. Weevil cocks an eyebrow suggestively.

"Girl, I could be so much more than your audio-visual aide."

Veronica fixes Weevil with her trademark look of repulsion mixed with interest. And then as if on cue, they both break into a smile.

"How much time do you have?" Veronica asks. The air between them has suddenly cleared. For a moment, they are nothing but two friends having lunch together.

Weevil moves to check his watch. "Twenty minutes."

"You don't have to help me," Veronica reassures him.

"We're just always owing each other favours, aren't we?" Weevil smiles.

"I was going to work in the library tonight. Maybe order a pizza—perks of being an employee is that I'm allowed illicit food in the library."

"And who's the person you figure has to pick up after your illicit midnight snacks?" Weevil's question should sound barbed and bitter, but instead it comes off good natured.

Their conversation wanders into other topics: The enemies Veronica has already managed to make; Keith, or as Weevil refers to him, the Sheriff. By the time Weevil has left to resume work, Veronica isn't even sure he agreed to meet her in the library.

VMVM

Veronica heads to the library just after her late afternoon psychology class. The Hearst library is a tall, stately square building. All white stucco and tall sweeping windows—it's the closest thing Hearst has to a landmark.

Veronica orders from Cho's pizza, before climbing the small set of the stairs into the library. She nods hello to Stephen, who's working at the help desk tonight. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Weevil materialize out of the shadows of the bookshelves.

"There you are." He takes a few hurried steps to catch up to Veronica.

"You were waiting for me in the library?" Veronica looks at him incredulously.

"Told my boss there was a complaint about the library lights flickering off." He shrugs. "Beats unplugging freshmen's toilets."

"There was!" Veronica exclaims. "I submitted a work order like a month ago, but no one seemed to be able to fix it."

"Only took a couple of minutes," Weevil says nonchalantly. "Then I spent the rest of the time trying to see if there was anything remotely interesting and non-academic to read."

"Any luck?" Veronica smirks.

"I found a couple of car magazines being used to prop up a table."

"There's a bunch of tables up on the third floor," Veronica says by way of explanation as they climb the stairs. Weevil nods in agreement and Veronica realizes he probably knows the library just as well as she does.

The way the stacks are laid out, each table is only visible from a few others. Veronica and Weevil choose a table in the corner, looking out over the faculty parking lot.

"So we can see when the pizza is here," Veronica gestures to the window.

"You weren't joking about the pizza," Weevil observes, settling himself into a chair.

"I never joke about pizza," she deadpans, taking the chair opposite him. All of a sudden, it occurs to Veronica that she has no idea how this is going to work. Veronica busies her hands by unpacking her preliminary notes and books. She takes a breath, when Weevil speaks, "So what's the plan, V?"

His willingness to help still puzzles Veronica a little bit. Weevil talking about his life, and especially his past, was evasive at best. For all Veronica's tendencies to pry and ask for favours, she had never asked that he share any more of his life than he offered. Veronica understood because she herself didn't like to dwell on her past—Lilly, her mother—the events wouldn't change no matter how many times they materialized from her words.

Her hesitance is evident in her response, "Well, I have a sort of outline for my presentation—a couple of identified risk factors for teenage crime—I think I'll base the presentation around that." She stops to make sure she is making sense, to give Weevil time to leave if he decides he doesn't want to help her anymore. Weevil has her fixed with his dark brown eyes, nods once with understanding. His body language is casual, but his eyes hold a mixture of determination and fondness. As if he wants to help Veronica not just as a favour, but as a friend—and wants to do a good job at that.

Veronica continues her explanation, more confidently. "The problem is all the books I read don't seem real, you know? They categorize away all of the feeling. I know it's an academic report, but I want it to feel like I'm writing a report on real people, not just the subject of some academic debate." Veronica finishes, waving her hands in frustration.

Weevil lets out a quiet chuckle at Veronica's frustration. "And that's where I come in? A real person with teenage crime experience?" His tone holds no malice, only amusement.

"You got it."

"What would you have done without me, Mars?" Bet none of your new college friends fit the bill quite like me." This time Weevil lets a little bitterness slip into his tone, though none is directed at Veronica.

"I knew you'd be good for something." She reaches across to bump his shoulder.

He gives her an unreadable look—a product of Weevil's leering suggestive glances, their new brand of tentative, honest friendship, and a small note of sadness.

"What are the risk factors?" he asks, determined.

Veronica grabs her notes off the table to read out her careful writing, "um poverty, family history of incarceration, family instability, mental illness, community factors—that's like a neighbourhood with a high crime rate, polarization, stuff like that."

Basically Neptune, she doesn't add. Veronica keeps her gaze cast on her page, for although she was no stranger to a lack of money, splintering families and addiction, she is still aware that her crimes had gone relatively unpunished. What is a college project for her, is Weevil's life. More than that, she knew that he didn't regret all of his decisions, and that Weevil the criminal made up a critical part of Eli's identity. She didn't know quite what to make of those facts.

"And you need examples?" Weevil clarifies, forcing Veronica to look at him. "Look, V, I won't be able to do this if you feel bad every time you mention the fact that I grew up a poor Mexican and that's probably why I spent time in jail when everyone else was on summer vacation preparing for college." His voice is strong, but neutral, simply stating his life as it had played out. "Yeah, I did some things I wish I didn't and some I don't regret, but I did agree to help you. You're not going to offend me every time you talk about teenage crime, V, you know I'm tougher than that. And you're tougher than that."

Veronica looks at him, mouth slightly opened, reminded of Weevil's keen ability to read her thoughts and body language, and his blunt ability to call her out.

"Sorry," she says, meaning it, "I know you agreed, I guess it's—I don't like talking about myself." She starts again, "I don't want to force you to talk."

"Veronica," he says intently, "you're not forcing me. You ever think I actually want to talk about me, myself?" he raises his eyebrows. "Most people see me and only see Weevil, ex-gang leader, ex-con. I am more than that. It's a part of me, sure, even a big part of me, but it's not everything." He pauses, "how's that for talking about real people?"

"Much better than Dr. Martin Bell here," she recovers and gestures to the first book on her pile.

"Pizza's here," Weevil notes, turning his attention to look out the window.

Once Veronica returns from picking up the pizza, she is well aware she has to get started on her presentation. They each take a piece of pizza, using paper towel stolen from the bathroom.

"I guess we start from the beginning," Veronica eventually muses. "So when did you… start?"

Weevil chuckles at her awkward phrasing but replies, "Well I stole my first bike when I was six."

Veronica tries to keep her face neutral, but is unsuccessful in keeping her reaction off of her face.

"I don't think we really thought of what we did as stealing," he clarifies. "More like we wanted a new bike and so we took it—we knew it was wrong enough to not tell our…parents." He pauses over the last word.

"Did you get found out?" Veronica asks, drawn into the story.

"Of course—I think Felix's mom found out first." Weevil looks reminiscent. "We tried to disguise it with kid's tempera paint, wasn't the most effective."

Veronica can't help but laugh aloud at the thought of six year old Weevil trying to paint a bicycle with finger paints.


	2. Chapter 2

**Weevil and Veronica continue their conversation in the library.**

 **Originally posted on ao3 10/02/19**

 **Original Note: So I was looking through old notebooks yesterday and I found more of this story that never made it on to my computer. It ended up inspiring me to add some more so here's an update (finally) after more than a year!**

 **Edit 10/02/19: I updated this chapter, because I wrote more of this story, but structurally it made sense to add a bit to the end of this chapter. the structure is still a little off, but I don't want to mess too much with the original chapters.**

VMVM

The feeling of uncertainty and awkwardness vanishes after that first story. As they talk the conversation turns to more serious subjects.

"The PCHers had this sense of belonging—you know. There was the fear and status and all that, but mostly it was having someone—friends—to have your back."

Veronica nods. "And to steal cars with."

Weevil cracks a smile. "Well and that." He pauses. "That's the thing. Yeah we did a lot of things that were not on the right side of the law, but we were all just kids. Same as—as much as it pains me to say—same as anyone, even the 09ers."

It occurs to Veronica that Weevil suddenly sounds a lot older than he is. They are only 19 but damn if they both haven't seen way more than any teenager should.

"Just wait a minute," Veronica tells Weevil, "that's a good quote, if you don't mind me using it."

Weevil nods. "Probably can fit it under 'Unstable Family Life.'" He points to her page where she has each of the risk factors neatly printed. "You don't have a mom or dad, or both, you go looking for a way to replace it," Weevil says seriously.

Veronica is unsure how to respond. Neither one of them is strangers to the pain of losing a parent, but Veronica can't imagine how she would have coped without her dad. The best thing about Weevil is she doesn't have to say anything. Of all the adjectives she would use to describe Weevil, introspective is not one that comes to mind. Yet here he is, a hundred times more comfortable talking about himself and his life than Veronica. He is poised, looking at Veronica, using the pencil he commandeered to point at the page.

"Why are you helping me with this?" Veronica suddenly blurts out. "I mean, there's having a heart to heart with friends and then there's helping me on work you're not even getting graded on." She looks across the table at Weevil, head cocked.

His face flushes with annoyance, probably frustrated by having to explain himself once again, before looking at her fiercely, yet sincerely.

"Because I want to, V," he says slowly, deliberately. He pauses in thought, and then continues, "and because I like it—this." He points to the books. "I may not be an academic, but it's nice to know that people care about this. I like making connections. Real people and all that. And it beats cleaning up after college students all day."

"So the PCHers, what did you guys, well, do?"

Weevil raises his eyebrows. Veronica puts her hands up in defence. "I'm not trying to implicate you here, I'm just…" She looks down at her notebooks. She's not even sure if she's asking because of her project anymore. "I'm just, well, curious I guess."

"I dunno, Veronica. What did you do with Lilly and Logan and that crowd?"

She's taken aback, for a second, at the conversation flipping around to her. At the pain that still comes when she reminisces about Lilly and her life before. But at the same time, there's a relief that comes with reliving those memories.

"We just hung out. Watched movies. Went to parties once we were a little bit older. Once we pranked Duncan—before we, uh, got together. Plastic wrap on the toilet, you know."

Weevil laughs a bit at that. "Always were a rebel, I guess."

"And Lilly would bitch all the time about her parents. Mostly she would rant and make dramatic statements like 'when I'm in college the whole world will be my oyster, not like here when we're stuck in Neptune.'" Veronica stops a minute to take in what she had just said. When Lilly got to college. Veronica was here now, in college. But Lilly wasn't with her.

"Too many people not still here." Weevil remarks quietly, and Veronica knows he's thinking of Felix, too. Felix and his brother Gus. Weevil's grandma. Too many.

"But sometimes," Veronica continues after a moment, "not often but a few times, she would get real silent and she would like, really open up to me. Cry even sometimes. Our friendship often felt superficial, but it wasn't, it was real."

"Same thing really. Me and the PCHers. We'd play videogames. Work on our bikes. Get drunk as fuck sometimes and just like, I dunno, talk shit. Had to look out for everyone else in our neighbourhood too, especially the younger ones, you know? Our kid brothers and sisters and that. And me, I was the one to keep track of it all. When something's gonna go down. Who I gotta keep an eye on. Who to cut some slack and whose ass I gotta beat to keep in line. Kinda like taking care of a bunch a needy children now that I think of it."

"It wasn't superficial either though, it was real too." He pauses. "That part I miss."

Veronica takes all this reminiscing in over a piece of pizza. Weevil is smart, she thinks. Of course she had always known this, but it felt like she had a new understanding or appreciation for him. Not smart in algebra, necessarily, although even that was likely more a product of his poor attendance and attention in other places. But in the way he sees connections, the way he took what life gave him and excelled.

The leader of the PCHers, while certainly not the most law-abiding use of his skills, called for the same qualities as any other leader. The kind of shit that 09ers were taught to put on their resumes when applying for fancy internships: communication, interpersonal skills, confidence, leadership. Everything that college ate up on applications. Too bad Weevil couldn't put that on his resume, like the student council presidents. Veronica snickers at the thought.

"Watcha laughing at girl?"

"The thought of you as student council president."

"Ah hell no, not my scene V."

"Really, how different is it from leader of the PCHers? Same skills, still leading people, making decisions. One is just a lot more acceptable on college applications."

At that Weevil laughs. "You know V, I never thought about it like that but's it's kinda true." He grabs a piece of pizza.

"You know, instead of me just crediting you in the report, why don't you come give my presentation with me?" Veronica asks.

Weevil looks at her, surprised.

"Be my audio-visual aide?" She tilts her head, like high school. It feels like so many years ago.

"You know I can never say no to you." He thinks a minute. "Alright."

"It's…" Veronica thinks for a moment. "You tell stories well. You explain stuff well. I don't know if I could do it justice paraphrasing you."

Weevil smiles, genuinely. "Thanks V, really."

VMVM

8:00pm

"I guess Gus was really the first one to realize that, potential maybe, I had? Picked me out right away, even though I was the smallest, not the logical pick for his right-hand man. Dunno what he saw, but he was the one who taught me. He was a violent motherfucker, but he cared so damn much for us and for Felix and Josie."

VMVM

9:30pm

"Thumper…?"

"Nah, there's some things you don't wanna hear, V. I don't wanna talk about that." His eyes darken and Veronica remembers driving past the demolished stadium and feels a little sick in stomach and more than a little uncomfortable being reminded of the violence Weevil was capable of as well.

VMVM

11:04pm

"Sometimes I feel like I wasn't supposed to make it. My grandma is gone. It feels like that house, all the other kids just poof gone, when I was away—" He takes a moment. "—in prison. They're all living with other family now. No one gives a shit whether I'm here or not."

If Veronica didn't know better, she would think he was holding back tears. There's a moment where she wants to reach out to him. Wants to say that she gives a shit that he's here. But it passes too quickly and he speaks again.

"Sorry, that's getting a little too emo for your report."


	3. Chapter 3

**Veronica and Weevil give her presentation. Then Veronica's necklace is stolen, and Veronica doubts everything Weevil told her the night before.**

 **Originally posted on ao3 10/02/19**

 **This fic isn't dead! There should be about one more chapter to this piece, it's in the works now. I'm not sure if anyone is interesting in reading this fic- it's run away from me in length, but I sure had a great time writing it. It's fun to flesh out Weevil's character, and I adore his & Veronica's friendship.**

 **I also re-edited and re-structured the first two chapters, and added a bit to the end of chapter 2, so if you have the time, I'd recommend starting from the beginning.**

 **Credit to the lovely vmscripts for the dialogue from 3x05 President Evil.**

VMVM

As Veronica waits for her classmates to trickle in, she starts to feel nervous. She usually doesn't feel anxiety before public speaking, in her experience there were far more terrifying things in life than speaking in front of her peers. But this feels different.

Veronica likes to think that she has everyone nailed down. That she knows how all her friends tick, how to understand them, how to communicate without ever saying what she wanted to outright. To some extent that's true, but last night gave her a whole new appreciation for Weevil. She realized that, as much as she considered him a friend, she really only sought him out when she wanted.

She hadn't stopped before to think why he might have been leader of the PCHers, beyond the cursory stereotypes of a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Sure she appreciated his intelligence, his wit, the way he was there when she needed, no questions asked. But she had never stopped to think why he had those traits in the first place.

The lecture hall is full now and the TA, Tim, takes the front of the class.

"We'll continue with our oral presentations. Now, let's see. Who do I want to hear from?" He pauses, chuckling a bit and then makes eye contact with Veronica. "Veronica Mars, why don't you come down here and blow us all away?"

Weevil isn't here yet. He won't be until his lunch break starts. Veronica looks at her watch.

"Actually, I'm not—"

"Very well. Moving on—"

As Tim goes to mark Veronica as incomplete in his notes, Weevil enters the lecture hall.

Veronica interrupts him. "Never mind, I'm ready."

Veronica and Weevil take the front of the classroom.

"Eli Navarro has been in and out of juvenile detention since he was thirteen years old. By the time he turned sixteen, he was the leader of the Pacific Coast Highway Bike Club. By his count, he's spent more than seven hundred days in juvenile detention facilities. He's currently on parole after assaulting the PCH gang leader who replaced him."

Tim interrupts again, "Veronica, this was an oral presentation, not show and tell."

Veronica feels a hot flash of irritation. "Dr. Landry said we were allowed audiovisual aids. He's both. Audio—." She points to Weevil.

"Yo."

"And visual."

Weevil holds out his arms. If any of her classmates were unsure about her presentation, Weevil's charisma has won them over, and the class laughs good-naturedly.

Tim acquiesces. "Fine, I'll let it slide."

Veronica starts again. "Today, I'll talk about the socioeconomic conditions that lead preteens into a life of crime. Then I'll open it up to questions to both myself and Mr. Navarro. Eli Navarro stole his first bicycle when he was six years old."

By the end of her presentation, Weevil has captivated the room. He's a good public speaker. Veronica tries to think if they ever had English together in high school, if she ever saw him give a presentation. Not since freshman year—she had a vague memory of a particularly hippy-type teacher making them write and read poetry to the class, but that didn't really count.

"Well, we were at it pretty late, you know. A little too much juice, a little too much smoke." He's relaxed, half leaning on the desk.

"So, it's like three or four in the morning. One of my boys, Hector, comes in, wakes me up. He's like, 'yo, yo, yo, somebody keyed my bike.' We find this guy's truck parked on the street, hotwire it, take it to my cousin's shop, 'cause, well, that's where the car crusher is."

Her TA does not look amused, but the rest of the class is rapt. They're actually paying attention to the presentation, for once, instead of doodling or covertly sending text messages beneath the desk.

"We end up leaving the cube, the one that used to be his F250, in his driveway with the license plates on top. Found out later, we had the wrong guy's truck."

Veronica has her eye on the clock, her time is almost up.

"Questions?" she cuts in.

A peppy blond girl puts up her hand.

"Do you think you can ever really leave gang life behind? I mean, once you've been in it that long…" she trails off.

Just like their conversation last night, Weevil takes the personal question in stride. "Promise you won't tell my parole officer?"

She nods. "Promise."

"I'm trying. I really am. But truth? I—Yeah I miss it. I miss having cash in my pocket. I miss the thrill."

Veronica shakes her head, just a little bit. They really are friends, she thinks, as she wraps up the presentation. And after everything that happened in high school, she's glad they're somehow both still here and still friends. She knows she should tell Weevil that, but that kind of openness is hard for Veronica. Instead she smiles at Weevil and as she walks off the podium and he nods at her in return.

They stand off to the side briefly, before Weevil exits the lecture hall.

"Text me your grade? You deserve at least a B for that."

"I think you mean we deserve. Too bad I can't give you the credit."

"I can think of a few ways you could pay me back." Weevil laughs though, cutting through the innuendo.

Veronica smiles quietly, and reaches out to grab his shoulder. "Thanks."

"See you around, V."

VMVM

That's what makes it worse, when Veronica goes after Weevil for stealing Lilly's necklace. She cares for him as a friend that much more, but their conversation only cemented that he could have, in fact, stolen her necklace. _Yeah, I miss it._ Or at least, that's what she wants to believe. It's too hard to believe that Weevil didn't steal her necklace, because that means there's no chance she's getting it back.

Veronica knows she shouldn't be headed to Weevil's place. She shouldn't be planning on breaking in and confronting him. But she needs proof that he stole it. After their late night conversation, and talking about Lilly. The moment after the presentation. Her realization they really were friends. And this is how he treats her?

She's worked up, and so she goes for a low blow when Weevil enters the room.

"Hope you don't mind—One of the cockroaches let me in."

 _My grandma is gone. It feels like that house, all the other kids just poof gone, when I was away._ His voice floats through her head.

She continues. "So, where'd you stash my necklace."

Weevil stares at her a minute and then looks down at Backup.

"You can let him go. Backup and me, we're old friends."

Veronica jumps up from the couch. "Where's Lilly's necklace?"

"Someone left a bracelet in my bed last week. Oh wait, uh, was it a hoop earring?"

He's not taking her seriously and it makes her even angrier. As if he had a leg to stand on. As if he hadn't committed dozens of more serious thefts. As if it wasn't plausible that he could have stolen her necklace. Nah, there's some things you don't wanna hear, V. I don't wanna talk about that.

"I'm not playing with you," Veronica grinds out.

"Don't you get it? I have no idea what you're talking about."

And now he wants to play innocent. Maybe all he was doing last night was playing on her feelings. Making her feel sympathy, making sure she would have her guard down. Hadn't she seen him pull that routine before? She had really believed that he was trying to get back his mother's ring from Lilly's bedroom in junior year. He had played her then, instead getting whatever was in the spy pen, and he is playing her now.

"Let me spell it out for you. I tell you about a working on-campus casino. Six hours later, it's robbed by a guy your size wearing a mask, who happens to be covered in a thin film of drywall dust and the stench of Drakkar cologne."

"My cologne stinks? So, all this play I've been getting is from pure sex appeal?"

"You just told my classmates that your old life of crime was calling. You just asked me about Lilly's necklace." _Our friendship often felt superficial, but it wasn't, it was real_. Isn't that what she had said about Lilly? She thought he understood that their friendship, too, was real.

Weevil's angry now, and a little bit hurt. He fixes her with a stare, his eyes cold and unyielding.

"I can't believe you think I'd do that—to you. After all we've been through." Weevil has raised his voice, and his words hit Veronica like a knife. She thinks about the night in library, and the presentation, and the grading rubric in her bag with an 85 written in red ink. She never did tell him her grade. She doesn't want to believe it either. Weevil has too many contradictions in him—She doesn't know what to believe. All she wants is her damn necklace back, and for something in life to go right, for once.

"After all we've been through, can you really blame me?" Weevil must know that he can't, because he drops his head and moves out of the way of the door. It's an admittance of defeat, or at least, understanding. And with that, Veronica is suddenly sure that he didn't steal the necklace.

"Yeah. Hey Backup, you can stay. But your girl's gotta go." He's still not looking her in the eye.

Veronica reaches up to grab her necklace, an unconscious motion until she remembers her necklace isn't there.

She's walking out the door when Weevil speaks again, "It's a wonder you don't have more friends." It's a low blow too, but really can she blame Weevil for that?

VMVM

She doesn't see Weevil again, until she hears that he's been picked up by the Sheriff. She heads back to the station, vindicated and angry, to retrieve her necklace. So he had played her again, not only in the library, but also when she confronted him at his house.

But then Lamb tells her Weevil ordered a pizza to his house using the stolen credit cards. Once again, the pieces don't line up and Veronica doesn't know what to think. Her curiosity gets the better of her, though, so she asks to see Weevil.

They toss a few jokes back and forth, feeling each other out. A familiar dance.

Veronica is deliberately casual when she asks Weevil again, "where's my necklace?"

"I don't have it."

Maybe Veronica can't ever trust that Weevil is telling her the exact truth, but she can trust her gut feeling. She'll get to the bottom of this, but she instinctively feels that Weevil didn't rob the casino. It's easier to believe that Weevil is either always on her side, or always against her. But the truth lies somewhere in the middle, and that's hard for Veronica to admit. In another circumstance Weevil could have robbed the casino, but he didn't. He's somehow both the friend that shared intimate details of his life with her over pizza in the library, and the ex-gang member that assaulted and set up Thumper's death.

"It was a frame job, V. Look, a prepaid pizza was delivered to my apartment. I didn't order it. Come on, what's a working man gonna do in that situation?"

"So when I look into this, and I will look into this, I'm gonna find out you didn't order that pizza?" What she doesn't say is, I trust you. I can't believe you, but I trust you.

"Or you could just save yourself the trouble and take my word for it?" What he doesn't say is, I know and I understand.

It's silent then, as they stare at each other. Then they break into laughter. They don't need to say anything else.

VMVM

 **I've always been really interested in why/how Weevil came to help with Veronica's project. They never seemed to discuss the past with each other (Lilly, their families etc.), so I always wondered if preparing for the presentation was the first time Weevil shared a lot of his life with Veronica. And I wondered what it was about their post-highschool (and post-jail for Weevil) relationship that made those conversations possible. This fic tries to make sense of all those questions (and make up for a sad lack of Weevil-centric fic).**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: Veronica goes back to Weevil's after she figures out he didn't steal her necklace. They talk.**

VMVM

Once Veronica gets her necklace back, she shows up at Weevil's place. This time with a pizza in place of Backup. She knocks on his door, and Weevil gives her a bit of a funny look when he opens it, but steps aside to let her in.

"Is an 'I'm-sorry-I-wrongfully-accused-you' pizza?" he drawls.

"I thought it was pepperoni, but Cho's has got my order wrong before so…" she deadpans, then shrugs.

He clears off a blanket and a pile of clothes from the couch and she sits down.

"In my defence, you did say your old life was calling." It's a defense, but it's also as close to an apology as she can get.

"Yeah, and in my defence, have I ever stolen your car?"

Veronica cracks a smile at that. Touché.

"Maybe because my car isn't worth anything," she countered.

"Maybe I just wanna ride in style in the Le Baron."

"And give up your Impala?"

"What can I say V? I'm tryna be a new man."

Weevil flips on the TV, and grabs a slice of pizza.

"You want something to drink?" he asks Veronica.

"Just water, if that's okay."

He gets up from the couch, and it's a short walk across the bed-slash-living room, through an open doorway and into the kitchen. He grabs water for Veronica, and opens a beer for himself.

"The Sherrif know you're here?"

"I told him I was meeting a friend."

"He know that I'm your friend?"

She hears all the layers in his question. Does the Sherrif know? Does he approve? But also, does Veronica think of Weevil as a friend?

Veronica takes a bite of pizza at that moment, and conveniently avoids answering the question. She thinks that Weevil is going to let her off the hook, and let their relationship settle back into whatever undefinable thing it is, but for some reason he keeps pushing.

"Are we friends, Veronica?"

She takes a moment, chewing her pizza slowly.

"I mean I don't share pizzas with just anyone." She finally comes up with an answer, but she means it. She could count the number of people on one hand. He has sat back down on the couch. A respectable distance from Veronica, but she can't help think that it's kind of like hanging out in his bedroom.

"'Cause I can't keep acting like we are, and then have you turn around and act like you don't trust me," Weevil presses on.

She truly just came over to eat pizza and share easy banter and give an unspoken apology. But Weevil is being insistent, and surprisingly, but not uncharacteristically, honest. That's the thing about Weevil—he's true to himself and loyal to a fault, but he's only honest when it suits him. Veronica can understand that tendency. She herself uses honesty to her advantage, particularly when working cases. But it bugs her that he doesn't see the irony; asking her to be honest now, when he wants, when he doesn't always return her the same honesty. This is supposed to be her apology to Weevil, but now she's getting angry all over again.

"I thought you played me, at the library." She tries to keep her voice level, and explain. "Like you did with that bullshit story with your mother's ring for Lilly, when you broke into the Kane house. You pull out the emotion only when it's convenient for you." If he wants honest, then she'll give him honest.

He nods, and thinks a moment. "Yeah, I know."

Veronica turns her attention from the muted TV flashing commercials to look at him. She isn't expecting that he'll just agree with her. No joke, no deflection, nothing.

Weevil continues, "I can't tell you I'm never gonna do that again, 'cause I don't make promises I might not keep, but I'm not that guy anymore. And I'm sorry, and you better hear me 'cause that's about the only time you hear me apologize. I meant it when I said I'm tryna be someone new. That stuff in the library, that ain't convenient, well I like talking about it, but I'm not tryna get anything outta you, I just like talking."

Veronica doesn't quite know how to react. But she did come here with the intention give an apology, albeit an unspoken one. She figures she owes him some of that honesty too. And there's something about Weevil that makes her feel safe enough to be honest. That scares her, to be frank. Honesty gives people ammunition to hurt her, makes her vulnerable and relinquishes her control. She takes a deep breath.

"Weevil it's—it's hard for me to trust people. If we're gonna be friends, I also can't promise I'm not gonna flip out and accuse you of something. That's how I work. In fact, when I go after the people I care about, it's because I want that proof that you're not that person, you know?"

He nods. "I get it, V, it's okay. But this is me telling you right now, I would never steal from you, and I would never take something that meant that much. Something that was about Lilly. That I can promise." He has turned to face her on the couch. Veronica knows how seriously he takes his promises, and feels the weight of it settle in between them.

"I know that now," she tells Weevil, "and now I'm gonna say I'm sorry and it's probably the only time I'll say it too." First honesty and now an apology. They do say that college changes you.

"Thanks V." His eyes are soft and genuine in the blue glow of the TV.

Veronica goes to grab another piece of pizza, and Weevil shifts his position on the couch. Veronica tries to think of something to say. Something mundane and mindless to balance out the intensity of the conversation they just had, when Weevil speaks again.

"It wasn't all bullshit though. That story 'bout the ring."

"Really?" Veronica is genuinely surprised.

"Really. I really did give Lilly my mom's ring, and I really did look for it that night. It just wasn't the reason I went looking through her room." Weevil shrugs, like it's no big deal, but Veronica knows it must have hurt. She still doesn't know exactly what happened to his parents; even in all their conversations he avoided giving an explanation. But he had implied his mother had died, and she didn't know if he even knew his father. She thinks of Lilly, then, and her ability to draw everyone around into her orbit. She would have given Lilly the ring too.

"God I miss Lilly."

"Me too."

"I dunno why, honestly we might not have even stayed friends. She could be mean and selfish and sometimes I think she was my best friend and I wasn't hers. I don't know if anyone really knew her. But I still miss her."

Weevil shrugs. "Sometimes it don't matter why people matter to you, they just do."

And isn't that the truth.

There aren't any more heart to heart conversations or investigations for the rest of the night. Just a bad movie and too much pizza and a friend.

~~fin~~

 **A/N: This is the last chapter, it took me like 3 years, but it's finally finished. Thanks for following along on this rambly "what if Veronica and Weevil had a real conversation" of a fic.**

 **Sidenote: I mention Veronica's Le Baron in this chapter, I know canonically she had a new car in season 3, but I feel like her car was so iconic, I didn't want to take the line out. So I guess this is a Veronica-never-buys-a-new-car AU?**

 **Come say hi on tumblr if you'd like: feeisamarshmallow.**


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